Diary – 1977


As you can see, I even went as far as designing my own cassette covers back then. Exhibiting all the artistic skills of a primary school child, it chimes with the DIY musical nonsense within. The cassette title refers to being under age for the pub. In 1977, I was 17 going on 18. Somehow I’d managed to torture my cassette recorder into a distortion effects pedal (probably by Spinal Tapping the volume on the tiny/tinny guitar amp I’d saved up for from my mum’s Freemans catalogue. Or it could have been the homemade amp that I’d borrowed from my mate Steve Graham, who had also fashioned some kind of fuzz pedal I seem to recall). Don’t expect any in-depth technical or sound engineering facts. Everything is fuzzy, including my remembrance of exact dates. All I can say is, hey, it was 1977, punk was all the rage, and the buzzsaw attack was all consuming.

Here’s all the tracks except for ‘Back Break Lover’, ‘Pimp’, ‘Grown Up Wrong’ (Rolling Stones cover) and ‘Chaos’



God knows who this is about (if anybody), but if you, or anyone you know was around Glenrothes at this time, I can only apologise for the accusation of bestiality in the final verse.  Later refashioned in 2023 as Crab Hacker Barnacles

You got your hooks in me
You want a lot from me
But I can see through you
You got nothing for me at all

Well you just talk too loud
You’ve got to be in a crowd
So you can’t understand
Why I have to leave again

Without, with you
Without, with you
Without, with you
Sorry I can’t stay

You got your hooks in me

Please take your dog with you
I’m sure he needs you too
You seem to like him more
You can have more fun with him

You’d probably get on fine
You don’t need to learn how to whine

and here’s the unexpurgated original (skips and all):


NEW TOWN (Remastered)

The angst of being a teenage punk in one of Scotland’s new towns. Looks like I was disgruntled with the cooncil and knocked back by a girl wearing a leather jacket and chewing gum.

Well here in our nice new town
A box for a home
We tire of our daily job
For what? I don’t know

Don’t show me how life should be run
Can’t live it in a town with no fun
Can’t stick in the rut with the rest
Best get up, get out and get dressed

Complaints, I’ve got a few
But I can’t tell the council what to do
I ask you straight to your face
How can you spend all your time in this place

Down at the bowling alley
Little girls who think they’re funny
Chewing gum and leather jackets
All the sheep produced from packets

Original recording:


THIS IS THE LIFE (Remastered)

The first of many homages to London where I trained as a TV engineer and became besotted by the excitement of the big smoke.

This is the life, this is the way
I want to stay here for the day
Don’t you wanna come with me
Down to London, just to see
This is how we should live now
Live now

My holidays, your holidays
We want to drift into the ways

Take me on the water
Take me on the air
Take me on the land
I’m never, never, never there
Never, never, never there

Original recording:


CRAWL (Remastered)

Angst, anger and absurdity. See the last line.

Kiss your boots, of course I’d love to
I’ll roll the cigarettes just for you
Crawling on all fours towards you
You can take the money, course you can

Take it

Creeping Jesus, what a sucker
I love laughing while you crawling
See him beg to slave some more
On his back, arms on the floor

Crawl, crawl, crawl

Here’s some words to rhyme with crawler
Smaller, taller, caller, faller
1,2,3,4 what comes after
Maybe 5 or 1059
Crawl, crawl, crawl

Kiss your boots, of course I’d love to
1,2,3,4 what comes after

Crawl, crawl

If you don’t know what it means – tough shit

Original recording:


UNDER AGE (Remastered)

When we got chucked out of pubs. Exaggerated for poetic licence – as if I would nick a bottle of gin! Later refashioned in 2023 as Meniscus Midge

Let’s travel to town in a car
And we’ll park in reserved spaces
Let’s eat up the night before dark
And we’ll have us a ball

We walked in a bar, got a lot of strange looks
From the old straight men
They puffed on their pipes and they rattled their dominoes
A barman looked us in the face
You’re under age, you’re under age

He asked us for proof, we said none
So he threw us right out the door
We went right back in, knocked a bottle of gin from the bar
He really went mad and he dived for a phone
Someone held us back,
The older men supped on their dark brown ale
We waited for police, we did not wish for peace
So we just let loose
The blue boys were so in a rage
You’re under age, you’re under age

Original recording:


TAKING ME OVER (Remastered)

I’d obviously read Orwell by this time and keen to stress the point. Later refashioned in 2023 as Zombies And Poodles

1,9,8,4, Ingsoc is really coming
Oh no, don’t say another bloody preacher

You taking me over
You taking me over

Political – you think you really are eh?
Another tedious bodily harm game

You taking me over
You taking me over

Ah, ah, ah, ah, you taking me over
Ah, ah, ah, ah, you taking me over
Ah, ah, ah, ah, you taking me over

I wanna hear an Enid Blyton record
This song you know is very intellectual
Glenrothes, boy that’s just another new town
I come from Kelso, just another old town

You taking me over
You taking me over

Ah, ah, ah, ah, you taking me over
Ah, ah, ah, ah, you taking me over
Ah, ah, ah, ah, you taking me over

Why not? Why?

I wanna read a Jimmy Osmond novel
I wanna see a Lord Harlech film
Her Royal Majesty on my calendar
She’s a pin-up girl!

Original recording:


SEVENTEEN (Remastered)

Must’ve been one of the first punk songs I did, shurely.

If you think about your life, you’re only going to be down
But if you think of what you like, you liking what you think now

Seventeen, don’t bring me down
I want to do what I want to now
Don’t stop me

When you’re not quite 18 yet, don’t want to get shoved around
You know more than what you think, adolescent mind

Original recording:


YOU LET ME DOWN (Remastered)

No punk album was complete without the token reggae track. So here’s my half-hearted effort. Later refashioned in 2023 as Campion Smut

You let me down
Once again
We warned you twice
So you’re to blame

You’re no good to us anymore
You’re no good to us anymore
You’re no good to us anymore

Look interested

Original recording:



So this is where my pun based parodies started. Amazed I never wrote Raeburn Heights instead of ‘all heights’

Last night I was drinking from a broken smoke stained glass
My mate, he was thinking about burning in the grass
When we’d finished talking, we we were half way there
Talking ’bout the pissed up drunkards heaven we have here

It’s so good getting pissed in the morning
Even better getting pissed at night
We just walk about the town feeling dizzy
And throw up from the top of all heights

When we’ve finished on the beer we’ll drink anything at all
Give us just a sniff of petrol and we’re pissing up the wall
Don’t bring those roll ups over here or we’ll never come to land
Let’s climb on the stage and sing with the band

Original recording:



My ability to embarrass has never dimmed with time. Later refashioned in 2023 as The Spiders

Everywhere it’s just the same
No-one wants to take the blame
Try to act a fool sometimes
And no-one wants to know, they say

You’re really showing me up
You’re really showing me up
You’re really showing me up

Had a girl with half a brain
She said that I was just the same
As everybody else that layed her
So I told all her friends, she said

You’re really showing me up
You’re really showing me up
You’re really showing me up

I love to see you going red
I love to see you going red

Original recording:


FASHION (Remastered)

Peters, I’m assuming, was a ‘trendy’ boutique. Predates Bowie (ahead of my time again). Love the clumsy verse structure.

If it’s in Peters store window, then you’ll buy it
If it’s really dear you’re still going to try it
Cos everybody else is wearing it, you know you’ve got to get it
You don’t want to be different
You just want to look the same as your mate


I see that stripes and pale colours are in this week
Why can’t you think for yourself, turn the other cheek
Make your own T-shirts, don’t be dictated to by everybody else
I know you think if you look different
Your friends think you’re weird now


It’s all a fashion
It’s all a fashion
It’s all a fashion


Original recording:


NEW BOY (Remastered)

Whoah – acoustic guitar! Wrote this in 1976 and entered it for an NME song writing contest (pre punk). Lost to Roogalator. They returned the cassette with a fag burn on it.

Kevin went to see the city to find his future home
He never got his clothes so dirty, but his mind was clean
He got the train to Euston station, platform No.5
At the circus, he couldn’t believe his eyes

He sat beside a crowd of people gathering by the road
He liked to hear the young boys talking of what he didn’t know
He walked the streets that night till early in the darkened hours
He crawled back to the station to lie down

Let me show you all the sights tonight boy
Let me show you all the night

Oh where’ll you go now, you’re just another new boy lost
By the pace
And you’ll be lucky if you find somewhere to stay at night
Sleeping light

A lot of folk were talking about the young boy alone
He got a lot of offers from the hustlers and the whores
And when he had no money left – a favour for a queen
And there he stayed until he found a high

Original recording:


ON MY WAY (Remastered)

On my way to where? No clue. I do remember that shed where we cast spells though.

Remember little Paula
Sure I do
Dancing im the hall
Sure I do

And Friday nights and love bites by the corner in the light
I’ll never forget you
And walking home by the longest route, cutting gently through the grass
Moving softly up the pass in the hallway

On my way
There’s the forest by the river
On my way
Train’s window’s like a mirror
On my way

And casting spells down in the shed where we hid away for fun
I’ll never forget you
We ran the risk of getting caught and of course we always did
And the car would always skid down the mud track
Into the haystacks on the farm

On my way
On my way
On my way

Original recording:













Still in 1977 and, amongst the thrashing guitar madness, I can detect a slight increase in humour. A couple of these songs made it to rehearsal stage but I don’t think any of them were ever played live. More buzzsaw action but also an attempt at the occasional poppy tune. I had definitely turned 18 at some point during these recordings, as one of the songs (see ‘Telegram’ below) mentions ‘drinking in the bastard Rothes Arms, watching all the bastard groups, playing all their fifteen million chords in their little  bastard suits.’ Eat your heart out, Alexei Sayle. Songs from the original cassette you have been spared: ‘Taped Love’ , ‘You Got Your Own Ambition’, ‘Bad Week’, ‘Apprentice’ and ‘Stains.’

Macedonia is the district of Glenrothes where I stayed in Minto Crescent.

Madolescent (Remastered)

I remember being very proud of the title, if not the music, on this one.

So you throw a brick, you’re a clever man, it might hurt
But it missed me by a mile, you’re a bad shot

Madolescent boiling to the break point
Madolescent boiling to the break point

Saw you yesterday – you vandalised a phone box
You stole the stick from a small kiddie’s lollipop

Madolescent boiling to the break point
Madolescent boiling to the break point

Outside Liptons swearing at the babies
On the street scaring all the old ladies

Sipping coke and eating cheese and onion crisps
In the cafe, think you’re such a big hit
But nobody is looking at you now you’re thinking
All these girls are just a bunch of cows

Original recording:


Valentine (Remastered)

Ha! Nice twist.

I’m adjusting the tone on my £500 colour TV
Neighbours whisper loudly – his records are groovy baby
I’m having bad luck, got my Lo-Fi system to pay
And even my horoscope says I’m going to die today

I got your valentine
I got your valentine today

I don’t get many letters addressed to me
And a valentine’s card was a very weird thing to see
So I looked inside, I thought the writing was jolly fine
But when I looked again I realised that the writing was mine

I got your valentine
I got your valentine today

How tidy, how touching
Oh, oh, smart

Original recording:


19 Magazine (Remastered)

Obviously, I liked the riff so much (heavy T.Rex influence), I didn’t really bother with the lyrics.

19, 19 magazine
19, 19 beauty queen
19, 19 get it for
You don’t wanna be a beauty queen no more

19, 19 magazine
19, 19 magazine

You don’t wanna be a beauty queen no more

Original recording:


Telegram (Remastered)

I see what I did here – using the ‘stop’ in telegrams as a motif. Smart.

Stop – pulling all your hair out
Stop – worrying about your weight
Stop – eating all that porridge
Stop – fighting with the baby
Ah ah

Stop – telling me I’m ugly
Stop – saying that I’m thick
Stop – stopping at the bus stop
Stop – acting narrow minded

You might just win the war
If you stop giving up
This is a telegram
Telling you I think you suck

Stop – messing with your sister
Stop – teasing with the cat
Stop – saying goodbye mother
Stop – having fits like that

Sitting in the bastard Rothes Arms
Watching all the bastard groups
Playing all their fifteen million chords
In their little bastard suits

Original recording:



Instrumental. Just kept the original recording. Later refashioned in 2023 as Nibbled


Cha Cha Cha Music (Remastered)

Somehow I’d wandered into an alien environment. Second line was unintelligible, so I just made it up. Later refashioned in 2024 as Johnny Nobody

Cabaret, cabaret, cabaret

Cabaret – Where this name is clicked for fields
Cabaret – Cocktails and olive peels

Cha cha cha, cha cha cha, cha cha cha cha cha cha
Cha cha cha, cha cha cha, cha cha cha cha cha cha
And it plays on
Cha cha cha music

Cabaret – I know nothing about this place
Cabaret – Let me out before the grace

Cabaret – drums, drums adorn the floor
Cabaret – drums, drums upon the floor

Cabaret, cabaret, cabaret

Cabaret – drums, drums adorn the floor
Cabaret – encore, encore, encore

Original recording:


False Charges (Remastered)

Punk by numbers and a (tiny) liddle bidda politics. Later refashioned in 2023 as Kleptoparasitic Fly

Why do you call me a politician
When I’m not after your recognition
Now you’re calling me a communist
I’m nobody ‘cept when I’m pissed

Don’t charge me with your lies
Don’t charge me with all your lies

Don’t call me a comrade

Original recording:


American Poetess (Remastered)

No prizes for guessing who this was about in an oblique sort of way..

Oh have you seen her, seen her, seen her in fair isle
Oh could you, could you, could you see her as dread
And did you, did you, did you make her an angel
Or did you take take her, take her in bed

An American poetess
An American poetess
An American poetess

Too elegant, degenerate, so disgraceful
A sordid sequence of bright lights and lust
Your pocket’s empty and the bed’s to be paid for
Bit of a letdown on a mattress of rust

And now you wake up and you want to meet her
Because you realise it’s not like they said
She may look ugly in your living room poster
But it’s different when you’re dreaming in bed

Original recording:


Like A Nightmare (Remastered)

I used to have a recurring claustrophobic nightmare about being wrapped tight and feeling a horribly creepy texture. I also used to hear voices in my head in daytime.

The ceiling
Shut down now
The feeling
Closed down now
A feeling

Just like a nightmare

The ceiling
The nightmare
In daytime

Original recording:


Cute Kick (Remastered)

Don’t know which Steve this was based on, but I also used to have a big zip sewed on to a T-shirt and I didn’t think of myself as cute.

A little bit of reaction
Won’t go amiss
Steve tried his smile on
Steve’s trying to win

He’s on a cute kick
Bags and allsorts
He’s really unique
An individual

Didn’t your mother ever tell you, you were wrong
Didn’t your mother ever tell you

He doesn’t follow
The new image
He’s his own gimmick
So genuine

He likes what he wants
Not very hip
He doesn’t sew shirts
He puts on zips

Original recording:


Hard Luck Stories (Remastered)

We used to sleep in Waverley station if we missed the last train home. Met some interesting characters, especially in the boiler room.

Dossing out in Waverley, six days of the week
Friday nights and sunny days, lie down in a street
With your hundred forty proof Bel Air
Tucked inside your coat
Singing songs about the war
Looks like you missed the boat

Don’t like your hard luck stories
Hate your hard luck stories

“Bridge Too Far” – you tell us all they were all your friends
Now they’re dead, but some like you are registered in beds
Telling of experiences
Fighting for your life
Now you scan the floor for dog-ends
Just to stay alive

Original recording:


The Grass Is Wet In St James Park (Remastered)

Another sordid drug-addled remembrance of sleeping rough in London.

Spent all night in a bar
Now I’m lying in a car
In a street in a car
On my back in a car

In a park and I’m cold
It was something I smoked
Moroccan roll
And rock and roll

The grass is wet in St James Park

Met a girl who was hot
Met a tap that was cold
Had a lobster for tea
Then I joined the navy

Woke up in a bed
Which was strange for a change
Fell asleep in a bed
When I woke I was dead

Original recording: